


Slow and Steady

by wraggy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nail Painting, doesn’t really have a plot, just casual nail painting and denying feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraggy/pseuds/wraggy
Summary: “‘Red-y to runaway, Love?’” Aziraphale holds a bright red up to him.“Yes.” Crowley says, to the name more than the colour.





	Slow and Steady

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me randomly last night and i just had to have a go writing it. I haven’t wrote any kind of fan fiction in like 4 years so sorry for any errors / misspellings. 
> 
> I haven’t read the book yet it the show has captured my whole entire heart these two idiots have me like <3

It was some months after the Armageddon-that-didn’t that Crowley found himself speeding towards the bookshop, like he had been doing practically everyday since they’d escaped the clasps of their old bosses. At this point it didn’t really seem worth going home with the amount of time he spent with his angel in between all his shelves of books. 

 

He’d picked up some muffins from a little place he knew Aziraphale liked to frequent and didn’t think too much about the feeling he got when he pictured the angels face when he gave them to him. Crowley had, after all, perfected the art of not thinking about his feelings for the last six millenia.

 

The bentley came to an abrupt stop in his designated parking area across the street and grabbing the muffins, Crowley sauntered up to the door, rolling his eyes fondly at the ever present closed sign. 

 

It’s simple to let himself in, making his way between the towers of books to the back room. 

 

“I don’t see why you even still call this a book store angel, you’re never open and when you are you never sell anything.” He says, pausing when he sees exactly what the angel in question is up to. 

 

“I do sell books sometimes dear,” Aziraphale

doesn’t look up but he does smile lightly, staying focused on the task at hand. “just as long as they’re not first editions or special to me.” 

 

“So none of them then.” The bag of muffins is forgotten on the table in front of a hideously endearing tartan sofa, Crowley more interested in what exactly the angel is devoting his attention to.

 

The task at hand, or he task on hand should he say, was Azirphale applying shiny blue nail polish to his nails with slow and careful swipes. There were various other colours strewn over the desk and Crowley picked one up to inspect it. 

 

“Nail polish? I must admit myself shocked angel. I didn’t realise you knew what it was.” 

 

Aziraphale smiles lightly but still doesn’t look up, pausing to re dip the brush into the bottle before carrying on. 

 

“Of course I do, my dear, I just never really payed much attention to it before. I was out yesterday after you had left, I fancied something sweet, and the wonderful young lady at the counter of a lovely cafe had these marvellous purple nails I just had to say something. She told me where she bought it and well...” he pauses to blow lightly on his finished hand, which absolutely does not make Crowley’s heart flutter, and finally looks up with a smile and a light blush. “you know I’ve always been rather indulgent, and I just popped in to look, but there were so many colours so I thought it couldn’t hurt could it?” He says it as a question, and Crowley allows a miniature smile. 

 

“Course not angel, there’s no one here who can say otherwise.” 

 

Aziraphale beams up at him and looks back down to his nails, already ( miraculously ) dry and twists his hand around. The blue is slightly shimmery now they’re done and Crowley stares for longer than the angel needs to know with his eyes hidden behind his glasses. 

 

“Anyway, I bought some muffins.” Crowley grabs the bag up again, sitting down on the sofa and pulling them out. The angel settles in his armchair across from him, reaching forward for his muffin with a small thank you before leaning back to enjoy it. 

 

Crowley only picks at his own instead focusing on the way Aziraphale’s hand he.ld the muffin, the sounds he makes after taking a bite and how his spare hand holds itself under to catch any wayward crumbs. As always he brings up a napkin to pat his mouth once he’s done and he sighs happily before turning back to Crowley, who is still enraptured by his hands. 

 

Even with his sunglasses still on, his stare must have been obvious because Aziraphale speaks up again. 

 

“Do you want to do yours as well? You seem to be staring my dear.” He’s only lightly teasing but Crowley feels his face go hot and he clears his throat, putting his uneaten muffin down. 

 

“Oh. Uh sure I mean, why not?” 

 

He gets up, straightening out his ridiculous ( endearing ) waistcoat and picking up the box containing the colours. Aziraphale sets them down, sitting beside him on the sofa this time and getting the bottles out. 

 

“I didn’t get that many to start with, just a few to get me comfortable. It’s quite relaxing actually, I applied them all last night to see how they looked before settling on that blue.” He wiggles his fingers again to himself. 

Adorable. 

 

“What colour are you feeling like dear? They all have rather odd names but we have...” He picks a black, turning to read the bottom. “Midnights kiss! I think that’s go nice with your whole style.” Aziraphale turns with a smile, holding the bottle out to him but Crowley’s brain stuttered to stop at hearing the words ‘kiss’ and ‘go nice with you’ coming from the angels mouth. 

 

“Uh, what else is there?” He says after gulping in a way he hopes was subtle. 

 

He picks up a gold bottle “Golden Eye, how about that dear? Not as lovely as yours though.” He puts it back down. Crowley, who’s eyes had been a sensitive topic for about four thousand years before eventually accepting them, only huffs and rolls said ‘Golden Eyes’. He takes the glasses off, sliding them into his chest pocket and revelling in the smile it pulls from the angel. 

 

“‘My lifesaver’ ahh but this isn’t really your colour.” The colour in question being a hideous minty grey green but the name has Crowley’s traitorous heart start going full speed. 

 

“‘Red-y to runaway, Love?’” Aziraphale holds a bright red up to him.

 

“Yes.” Crowley says, to the name more than the colour. 

 

Aziraphale opens the bottle, setting it down on the table and holding out his hand for Crowley’s. 

 

The angels hands are much like himself, slightly pudgy and undeniably soft. He focuses entirely on making sure his strokes are perfect and Crowley allows himself to stare unabashedly at his angel. 

 

“I used mini miracles just to make sure they’re not messy and so they don’t chip away but otherwise it’s just slow and steady going.” 

 

Like us then, Crowley thinks to himself with only a little bit of bitterness. 

 

He had hoped that the end of the world, or lack thereof, could motivate him into making a move after six thousand years but he’s also comfortable with the adjustments that  have been making. Seeing each other everyday, the occasional picnic and sometimes Crowley staying over on the sofa after a night of drinking. 

 

Aziraphale has also come over to his flat a few more times, although the bookshop is their usual meeting point. Crowley watches the red transfer onto his nails, the wet feeling weird but not unpleasant. 

 

“What was your colour name?” Crowley asks, to distract himself from the angel blowing gently on his fingers. 

 

“Baby blue.”

 

He hums.

 

When he’s finished and the nails are dry and shiny, Aziraphale threads their fingers together. 

 

“How about that dear? We match now.” 

 

Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s left hand, clearing his ring fingers nail and uses the red he’d just used for him and carefully applied it to his finger. The red doesn’t sit particularly well with the blue, but Crowley puts the red down and looks at his first attempt.

 

“There.” Crowley looks at the angels face, seeing the blush spreading across his rounded cheeks. “Now we match.” 

 

Aziraphale gets the blue he used for his own nails and repeats the same for Crowley. The look at each other for a while, the silence comforting and their fingers threaded. 

 

“How about we go out for lunch?” Crowley finally says, sliding his glasses back onto his face. 

 

“That sounds lovely my dear.” 

 

Neither of them let go of the others hand for the rest of the day. 


End file.
